


every chance I get (I'll turn you on)

by xumyuho



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Face-Fucking, Fuckbuddies, Hair-pulling, M/M, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:40:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5359739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xumyuho/pseuds/xumyuho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minghao is a kid with miserable talents at choice making and a lot of feelings. Wen Junhui is the hot graduate who he's sleeping with and has most of those feelings for. </p><p>Everything about his life is confusing, but at least the sex is great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every chance I get (I'll turn you on)

**Author's Note:**

> Honey, I'm home~
> 
> Yes, hello!! It's been about three months since my last fic, so I am back with Junhao smut, which is about four times as long as my last work......one hell of a comeback... Writing something this long was truly an experience, but in the end I really enjoyed it! I want to thank AO3 user coupsd for helping me through and also being the beta for this, u the real MVP, u the best. shower her with love!! can't wait for our collab. 
> 
> I want to also say thanks to y'all who have left so much love to my other works, it's been really great and motivating !! you are all so lovely !!
> 
> Enjoy?? Happy holidays?? I am so, so sorry for this :')

 

The cold of the laminate floors seeps into Minghao’s bare feet as he walks through the dark apartment, leaning down and gathering up his clothes while striving for complete silence. He does his best to muffle the clink of his belt while pulling on his jeans and even his breath that seems to be echoing in the room—all the while ignoring the shakiness he’s feeling, like he’s committing a crime. The hunger in the pit of his stomach is evident and persistent, but Minghao wouldn't even think to use the kitchen or search the fridge. Throwing a lingering, longing gaze at the cupboards, he turns to search for his socks.

The clock on the wall reads three in the morning. Minghao can feel his face pulling up into a tired grimace; he hadn’t planned on falling asleep. Walking back home would take him at least thirty more minutes, and he already had classes in five hours. _What’s new._ He steps into his high tops lazily, stifling a yawn. Regrets kept piling up lately; it would be funny if it wasn’t so depressing.  
  
Pulling on his coat, he finds a packet of gum and an almost empty pack of cigarettes in the pockets and that's when he realizes the coat isn't even his. The parka smells strongly of cologne and smoke, and he could probably never fill out the shoulders, but he just fumbles for his own jacket to get his keys and phone, leaving it on the floor.

His hand rests on the door, but a painful twist low in his gut makes it so he turns around, breathing out a low _fuck_ , and with quiet slow steps makes his way back to the bedroom. He strides over to the bed, avoiding the clothing scattered on the floor.  
  
“Hyung.” His voice sounds shaky and dry, but it stirs the sleeping body on the bed. Junhui lifts his head up slightly from the pillows, and it’s so dark Minghao can barely see his face but he just knows Junhui is smiling. “I’m heading home." He is quiet, even more shaky, his fingers worrying a loose thread inside his pocket.   
  
Junhui stifles a yawn and a shudder, the bare skin of his shoulders meeting the harsh contrast of the night air. A car drives by down the street and for a moment the room is illuminated, Junhui’s sleepy smile and his bed hair suddenly bright and too concrete for Minghao to handle, but he doesn’t turn his eyes away.  
  
“Alright, stay safe, kid.” His voice is thick with sleep. Junhui lets his head fall back onto the bed, and Minghao releases a breath. His lips are itching, maybe for a goodnight’s kiss he knows he shouldn’t even expect, but he makes his leave. The lock of the front door clicks open for him with ease.   
  
  
***   
  
  
He walks out of the lecture hall and is mid-yawn when his phone goes off, a text after another flooding into his inbox, and he shoves a hand into the large pockets of the coat to dig it out. On the screen it reads _Junhui-hyung_ with a candy emoji on either side of the name, and _there’s_ the enthusiasm, unneeded and uncalled for, bubbling up and making it hard for him to try and avoid being knocked over by the entire student body filling up the hallway. He gets out of the department building before opening them, and it’s him asking Minghao to visit him at work and butchering the crying emoji while at it.  
  
There’s no need to wander too far, turn a few corners, and cross a few roads since Junhui works in a coffeehouse just next to his school. It’s cold, but he doesn’t mind, shoving his hands into the pockets of the parka and the pack of cigarettes digs into his palm. He takes them out and looks at them for a second, before searching for a lighter too.   
  
Minghao settles to lean on the wall outside the front doors of the pricey and stuffy cafe that was ambitiously striving for that late 90’s grunge aesthetic with its interior and unfortunate music choices, but it appealed to most. Junhui instead has bitched about the place multiple times about the drinks, the interior, the uniform, the boss, the other workers, the fact that he had to work in a coffee shop because he was so broke. And Junhui wasn’t one for bitching—he was the type to ‘suck it up and just make sure he’s better than anyone else even when he hates it’ (his own words, not Minghao’s), but Minghao understood the whole ‘wanting to move on from being a student and finding a job he actually has qualifications to do’ thing.   
  
When Junhui finally steps out, Minghao has a cigarette between his lips, burned halfway through, and Junhui gives him a surprised look.   
  
“This is new,” he says, tone bordering on disapproving, which in turn makes Minghao’s fingertips feel numb while his chest tightens with something he would rather ignore. Junhui nabs the smoke from his lips, the pads of his fingers brushing against them and brings it to his own lips instead.   
  
“I took someone’s coat accidentally last night, that’s one of theirs.” Minghao digs the pack out of the pocket and waves it lazily. Junhui takes another look at him and bursts into laughter, finally noticing the way the coat is swallowing his slender frame in a way he looks like a bundled up toddler. It rings and echoes all around them, and makes Minghao smile and look down at the ground.

“I thought you hated the taste.” Junhui inhales deeply, putting on a show, and Minghao drinks it all up, takes it all in. He feels himself inhaling at the same pace, holding his breath, and when he exhales, smoke surrounds them. His heart races, mouth goes dry, knees go weak, the whole ordeal.

“I did,” Minghao says, shuffling his feet on the pavement. “I'm not sure anymore.”  
  
Junhui smirks around his cigarette, taking one last long drag before throwing it to the ground and stepping on it to put it out. “I get out in fifteen, I’ll see you then.”  


***  
  
  
Xu Minghao and Wen Junhui weren’t friends.   
  
They shared friends, had moved in the same circles with the same people. But they weren’t friends, not really.     
  
Wen Junhui was a lively person. He was older—a graduate—but still hung out with the third and second years Minghao had gotten to know after starting uni. A bit loud, goofy at times, but not a bit less intelligent because of it. Never the complete center of attention, seemed like a guy who got blinded in the spotlight and thus stayed out, but always played along with the dumbest of ideas and most childish pranks. He was also _devastatingly_ handsome, with very defined facial features, broad shoulders, and expressive dark eyes and an upper lip that distinctly curved down in the middle and made his lips look hauntingly full.   
  
Minghao was all in for that, for someone older, someone handsome, someone good with words and carried themselves like Junhui did. So between the small conversations during different sort of parties and get-togethers, there was a piqued interest, and then some crushing, and then an undeniable infatuation that was already too far gone to get rid of. To Minghao, Junhui’s presence was overwhelming, but he did his best to joke around with him, to not shy away, to not point out when Junhui occasionally stared longingly at Minghao’s lips or neck, making him feel heated and overall fidgety.   
  
They started to really get along, get deep, get touchy, but they didn’t become friends. They never exchanged numbers, never learned anything actually important about each other. But Minghao found himself looking forward to each party where he knew they would end up seeing again, where he knew Junhui would pay that attention to him again.  
  
“So? You should spill the beans, let him know you’re down,” Mingyu said amidst scooping up the remnants of his soup from his bowl. Minghao grimaced, both at the statement and Mingyu’s gross eating habits, as Mingyu had broth and pieces of neatly diced carrots stuck to the side of his mouth.   
  
“I should _not_ , dude, I _just_ told you. We spend time together, but it’s not like… I don’t know.” Minghao threw a napkin at the other guy to clean himself up with, before he sank deeper into his seat and eyed the bowl of soup that was resting on Mingyu’s kitchen counter in front of him. “I can’t figure him out, if he's into me or not, or what he wants. He’s too smart or what the fuck ever.” Mingyu snorted.   
  
“Funny. That sounds more like he’s your arch enemy than your major prolonged crush.” Huffing, Minghao straightened up and started to eat, making it so he couldn’t answer any more of Mingyu’s questions.   
  
It was someone’s birthday the next time they saw each other, a house-party at Seungcheol’s. He’s making his way into the house and barely reaches the table that holds the alcohol, when someone grabs his wrist, and he turns around to see Junhui smiling at him. And there are words coming out of his mouth that get buried under the music, but Minghao reads from his lips an _I’m glad to see you_ and he tries not to smile and shy away, instead handing him a bottle of hard cider so he doesn’t need to say anything himself. Junhui laughs and takes it, leading him away from the living room.   
  
They stay settled on the top of the stairs, and Minghao can’t figure out what to say. His conversation with Mingyu keeps violently rewinding through his head, and he feels slightly nauseous when he takes a sip from his bottle. Glancing to his right, he can see Junhui looking at him intently. A guy stumbles past them, smelling strongly of weed and seemingly high out of his mind, and doesn’t make it to even two steps in before falling down the whole flight of stairs, face first.   
  
“ _Jesus_.” Minghao eyes the unmoving body that is now gathering everybody’s attention. Junhui looks like he wants to laugh and hides his smile by taking a swig. Minghao elbows him in the side, making him actually snicker like a snotty brat. “Hyung, you’re horrible.”

  
“Man, I won’t miss this when I stop associating myself with you kids, I’m getting too old for that shit,” He gestures at the crowd surrounding the bottom of the stairs, grinning. The guy sits up slowly, and for a second things look alright, until he starts crying about a bad high. Someone yells something about projectile vomiting and digestive pyrotechnics and soon there are three people dragging him to the nearest sink.   
  
“I like parties,” he admits, “Like, getting plastered and being in a crowd is great. But it’s also exhausting. Like, such violent secondhand embarrassment that it’s hard to deal with.” Minghao breathes out a laugh, looking over at Junhui who looks considering.   
  
“I get that.”   
  
They sit in silence for a minute.   
  
“We could always, you know. Leave. I don’t live that far.”   
  
Minghao just stares at him, probably looking like a mixture of confused and absolutely terrified, and Junhui raises a questioning brow.   
  
“We aren’t friends,” is all he blurts out after many seconds of chasing after something actually intelligent to say. He wants to cringe, expecting Junhui to look hurt or put-off, but instead his face doesn’t waver a bit. Junhui leans in a bit closer, so that their arms are pressed together, and a dumb but absolutely charming smile tugs on his lips.   
  
“We could be,” Junhui says, hooking an arm around Minghao’s shoulders. Junhui leans in so that he can have a better look at him, making sure Minghao’s eyes are on him. That, and the hand threading through the soft hairs at the back of his neck make the room seem void of air, and he needs to swallow his heart back down to his chest.

“I’m a really good friend.” Junhui’s charming, bright smile turns into a smirk that is so sure and confident but honest, and Minghao hates it, hates feeling so exhilarated and breathless by being the center of Junhui’s attention, but then Junhui closes the distance between them, pressing his lips against his own.  
  
They exchange weirdly tame kisses, tentative and testing and gentle, and between every single one Junhui pulls away to look at him, then smiles, and does it again.

The make out in one of the bedrooms upstairs for what feels like hours, the tentativeness getting forgotten as Junhui becomes more sure with him, demanding, and everything about their actions becomes heated and messy. Junhui asks him to go home with him again, his hands sliding up his shirt, and Minghao breathes out a low yes.   
  
They make it out of the house just in time to catch a ride from one of Junhui’s friends, older and sober and looking at Minghao like he wants to tuck him safely in bed, but then just starting the car in silence. Minghao can’t even fasten his seatbelt before Junhui is pulling him into his lap, and Minghao giggles as he laps on his neck and sucks on the skin below his ear.  
  
The way to Junhui’s was a blur, really, just pressing closer and closer the whole drive over until they reach the door, then hasty undressing followed by so much kissing Minghao could barely feel his lips anymore when he wrapped them around Junhui’s cock and sucked him off, placed between Junhui’s legs on his knees, head bobbing eagerly and slick noises filling up the room. Junhui’s hand has a firm grip by the back of his head, fistful of hair falling neatly from between his slender fingers. He smiles and coos, thighs quivering slightly from where he is seated on the side of his bed.  
  
“God, _fuck_ , that’s so good, you’re so pretty— ” and when he says it like that, his voice heavy and husky, Minghao feels like his chest might just cave in and takes him deeper, hand working what he just can’t reach. His eyes flutter shut when looking up at Junhui’s face twisting up in clear pleasure becomes too much to handle, all feelings awakened by the sight going straight to his dick and he’s already so hard it’s painful.   
  
Junhui tells him he's coming, that Minghao is amazing, _perfect_ , and fists his hair roughly and comes inside his mouth, and Minghao doesn’t mind the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes and the strain on his jaw, taste of Junhui salty on his tongue making it all so worth it. He’s pulled up and their mouths melt together easily, Junhui hums as he can taste himself in Minghao’s mouth, and then pushes him onto the bed, making Minghao break into a fit of breathy giggles.   
  
He takes a good look at Junhui like this, looming over him with a wide orgasm-induced smile plastered on his face, and something makes Minghao feel choked up. Probably the way Junhui looks at him, eyes raking through everything about his naked body, and bites his lip slightly before meeting Minghao’s eyes and leaning down for a kiss. His hands ghost over Minghao’s stomach, then to his thighs, eyes following intently.   
  
“You’re, like, ridiculously fit, what the fuck,” But he doesn’t seem disappointed by the way his flesh is firm instead of soft under his touch, admiring the lean muscle. Minghao huffs out a laugh and shoves him in the arm, though his whole skin is prickling weirdly from hearing Jun say things like that, but not in a bad way.   
  
Junhui handles him with ease, turning Minghao over to his stomach. Minghao gets up on his knees, letting his upper body lean down on the bed and cranes his neck to see Junhui settle behind him, a small tube in his hands. He grins at Minghao, wide and excited and it makes his face burn up. Junhui’s lube-covered finger circles his entrance before the tip pushes in.

Junhui teases him open slowly, planting kisses and bites on his lower back while his fingers are buried inside of him, and Minghao’s pretty sure his whole lower body will be tattered with bruises later. The intrusion makes Minghao’s breathing come out in huffs, but the slight burn is eased with every kiss and nip on the sensitive skin. After what feels like ages Junhui adds a third finger, and when the stretch makes Minghao hiss and tense up Junhui’s other hand would stroke his cock and help him through it, and he is so fucking _considerate_ Minghao wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry about it. Junhui crooks his fingers inside of him and Minghao whimpers loudly, mouth falling open. “Is that good?” He’s panting and writhing, open mouthed and messy. All the while fucking him with his fingers, Junhui keeps whispering encouragements against his skin, making him feel weightless and needy.  
  
“Minghao.” Junhui sounds like he’s out of breath, and Minghao isn’t sure if anyone calling his name will ever sound this good. “Think you’re ready for me?”  He nods quickly, probably seeming ridiculously eager but not caring a bit, and Junhui removes his fingers, leaving him with a dull feeling of emptiness. He can hear Junhui slicking himself up, then feel him grabbing his bony hip with a hand that’s slightly damp and cold from the lube and makes him huff out a surprised laugh. “ _Gross._ ”   
  
Leaning forward, Junhui’s firm chest presses against his back and Junhui places an open mouthed kiss at the nape of his neck, then moving down to give one between his shoulder blades, making him shudder and groan, voice giving out his impatience. “Hyung, would you _just_ —”   
  
Junhui laughs and his free hand ghosts up his side, sliding up to grab at his hair, giving it a tentative pull which coaxes a moan to roll out of his mouth. Minghao can feel Junhui smiling against his back, and then he is thrusting in without a warning while yanking at Minghao’s hair, pulling his head back in a way his throat is bared and his breath comes in heavy huffs between the obscene noises he _can’t stop_ making. Junhui goes slow at first, letting him adjust to the sensation of being filled to the brim and the overwhelming ache that comes with it, but not stopping, before settling with a quicker, harder pace that makes him groan and grab at Minghao’s hip hard enough to bruise.   
  
There’s a strain on his neck, and the burn of the pull has no gentleness or care in it, but  Minghao can’t help but cry out and grind his ass back to meet the demanding snap of Junhui’s hips against his own.   
  
Junhui drives into him deep, thorough and rough, inducing him into a whimpering wreck. His fingernails scratch along his scalp, and it feels oddly considerate, the way it makes warmth pool inside of him and his breath hitch. He is so close to coming, just a touch away from spilling, and his whole body aches in need of release. Minghao moves his hand to reach down to his cock, but Junhui groans out a low, “No.”

  
“Fuck— _Junhui_ , ” His words come out in sobs, and he’s so hard and so _close_ , it’s _painful,_ but Junhui shushes him and the hold on his hair softens slightly.   
  
“Just a little while longer.” And Minghao has no clue how he can sound so reasonable even when it’s the most unfair thing anyone has ever told him to do. He whines, and Junhui yanks at his hair again, harder, and he never knew he was this into that, but it seems like he’s still learning.  
  
“You’re so spoiled,” Junhui huffs out, his voice giving away his smile, and then he comes with a choked up grunt, followed by a moan, hips stuttering, riding out his orgasm. The hand in Minghao’s hair pulls him back, and up, up, until Minghao is supporting his upper body on his fingertips alone, his thighs quivering, and then Junhui’s other hand wraps around his cock and with only a few strokes he comes all over Junhui’s fist. Junhui holds him through the shudders and cries, then lets him lie down on the bed with a thud.   
  
Trying to catch his breath, Minghao breathes in Junhui’s scent from the pillows. Junhui’s fingers ghost their way into his hair again, but this time they’re gentle, smoothing out the dull ache on his scalp and Minghao feels like he’s being petted, treasured. Turning over on his back he sees Junhui smiling at him, and the elder leans down into a kiss that makes everything just even out.     
  
“We should do this again,” he says against Minghao’s lips. And it makes his stomach sink so low, the way he says it. His mind is filled up with thoughts of wanting something more than that, doubts whether or not this is a good thing. Basically Junhui is implying that they’d be just sex, and he’s not sure if he can deal with that being all they’d ever be.   
  
But the way Junhui looks at him, like he really wants this, wants _him_ , makes all the difference.   
  
“Yeah. We should.”

  
***

  
His phone keeps going off, inbox flooding. Junhui has an obnoxious way of sending a whole sentence word by word, and it annoys the fuck out of him but he doesn’t admit he finds it also sort of endearing, being showered with attention.  
  
“Well, aren’t you popular.” Mingyu opens up a bottle of beer and sits before his laptop, his tone obnoxious as usual. Minghao scoffs and kicks him under the kitchen table. He opens up the messages, but then Mingyu is already yanking the phone from him and taking a look. Minghao smacks his hand and pulls the phone back close to his chest.

“What the fuck, Kim Mingyu.”  
  
Mingyu looks surprised, raising his brows. He saw. “Ah. The major prolonged crush.” Mingyu grins around his bottle while taking a swig. “I thought hyung didn’t get your number, what changed?”   
  
Minghao gives Mingyu a long look, considering. Yeah, damage control could be good. But Mingyu doesn’t deserve the effort. “We had sex. Now he keeps booty calling me.” Mingyu’s face falls and he just stares at him. Minghao shrugs.   
  
“Though it’s more like I keep going back to him for more, I guess.” Mingyu chokes on his beer and looks like he’s going to cry and it makes Minghao feel slightly bad. But only slightly. “I don’t know, man. This whole situation is so weird. But to hyung it seems perfectly normal?” Which makes him sound incredibly pathetic.   
  
Mingyu eyes him for a good while before he drawls out, “You cope by sex.” Minghao cringes. “You cope by having _sex_ with Wen Junhui.” His words are drawn out, slow, like he’s putting this shit together while saying, “Who seems to be emotionally detached and _stupid_ because he hasn’t noticed your major crush on him, isn’t in a relationship with you, though you have liked him for ages now, and you cope with your buried emotions by having sex with him.”     
  
“I suppose that’s my life now, yeah.” Minghao stares at the spot in the wall right next to Mingyu’s head.   
  
“When will you _stop_ falling for inappropriate people, I swear to god,” Mingyu whines, putting his beer down and looking like he doesn’t know whether to slap Minghao across the face or hug him. “This is probably bordering on being even worse than that dance teacher ordeal.”   
  
“Shut _up,_ dipshit, I was like fifteen years old,” Minghao grouses with a sneer.   
  
“Literally no one cares. The point is that _you_ can’t pull off being _fuck buddies_ with anyone. You’re too _clingy_ and you read into things way too much. You make mountains out of fucking pebbles, dude.”   
  
“I can have distance. And I can do casual.” _I can learn to do something vaguely similar to casual in spite of having it bad._   
  
“Yeah but you can’t _un-do_ the fact that you like him, and at this rate you will start falling in _love_ with him, and you will become that guy who always cries after sex, and Wen Junhui will be so disgusted by your sobbing he’ll find someone else to sleep with, and guess who has to get you out of that slump?” He snorts and smiles weakly.   
  
“Me, Hao, that is who, and the shrink I will have to hire for your sorry self who has stopped believing in love and happiness,” with a huff Mingyu finishes and Hao leans down against the table, groaning. He stays there for a few good minutes, before resting his chin on his hands.   
  
“That’ll probably happen, won’t it?” He offers Mingyu a small smile, and he looks stressed and like he needs another beer or four.   
  
“Whatever, dickweed. Just don’t come crying when my prophecy is fulfilled.”

Minghao shrugs, reaches for Mingyu’s beer and drinks from it while replying to Junhui, setting up plans to meet up on Tuesday.   
  
  
***  
  
  
It’s a Tuesday, and it’s a _shitty day_. Minghao’s definitely flunking school as a whole in the next semester, and in an effort to save his ass he has been sitting in the stuffy coffeehouse Junhui works in for hours drafting out marketing plans. His table has papers and materials scattered all over, next to a few empty cups and his bag, the coat he still hasn’t returned to Junhui resting on his lap. He lets out an irritated growl for the upteenth time in the past few minutes, before leaning back in his chair and running his hands down his face, feeling remotely like crying.   
  
“Hi.”   
  
A whisper sounds behind Minghao, just by his ear, and when he opens his eyes Junhui is already sitting on the seat opposite his.

“Hi,” Minghao starts. Junhui has just pulled on his work-clothes, starting his shift. A weird weight sets itself in Minghao’s gut when he sees him, that he chooses to ignore.  
  
“Rough slump?” Junhui takes some of his papers and skims through them, slender fingers running across the documents.   
  
“Yeah, I’m drowning in it. ” Minghao pouts, leaning on his elbows on the table and looking at Junhui, pleading. Junhui snorts and shrugs.   
  
“What even is this stuff?” He seems puzzled by the amount of numbers, and it weirds Minghao out, since he always thought Junhui a mathematics kind of guy. “What are you taking?”   
  
“Business administration.” Junhui looks at him for a second before bursting into laughter, throwing the papers back at Minghao. Offended, Minghao gathers them and eyes the elder with clear distaste. “Do not laugh at my life choices, Wen Junhui.”   
  
He stops cackling and meets his eyes, face lit up by amusement. “I’m sorry I just, I don’t know. I never even thought you’d be into that.” His smile is apologetic and earnest, and it makes Minghao scoff.   
  
“I am _not_ into this ,hyung, that’s the problem,” he whines, resting his head on the table. Junhui reaches over to pet his hair softly, tension dissolving from his bones as soon as the touch washes over him.   
  
Worrying his lip, Minghao considers whether or not to ask, but curiosity gets the better of him. “What were _you_ into?”   
  
Junhui looks surprised by the question, and for a second Minghao feels really nervous. “My major?” Minghao nods.  “Philosophy.”   
  
There’s a moment of absolute silence, and then Junhui laughs at Minghao’s disgusted grimace, ruffling his hair until it’s a mess and then smacking it lightly. “Don’t make _faces_ at my life choices, _sparky_.” Minghao huffs and starts to gather up his things, shoving them into his backpack. He’s done for tonight. Also he might be slightly freaking out because he now knows _an actual fact_ about Wen Junhui, the philosophy major.

“So, if business administration isn’t your thing, what do you like, exactly?” Minghao cranes his neck to look at Junhui, eyeing him suspiciously. His tone is very nonchalant, but Minghao can hear the expectation in his voice, the shit eating grin that’s about to plaster itself on his lips.   
  
“You want me to say ‘you’, don’t you?”

Junhui breaks into jubilant laughter, his eyes scrunching up from the smile splitting his face. Satisfied, Minghao smiles into the surface of the table, forcing out a groan of disdain.   
  
“Hey.” When he looks over, Junhui’s biting on his lip, seemingly considering. Minghao swallows, his mouth feeling dry.   
  
“You’re stressed as shit, right?”

Minghao lets out a breathy laugh, packing up the rest of his things. “Yeah, as shit.” Junhui grins and gets up, gesturing for him to follow. Minghao says his prayers before getting up and trailing behind him.  
  
Minghao follows Junhui into the staff’s bathroom, closing the door and slumping against it. Junhui is leaning into the sink, only a few steps away, the weird pale lighting illuminating his face with sharp highlights and making his eyes glint. Minghao likes his face, it’s a good face, all sharp edges from the bridge of his nose to the corners of his eyes to his cheekbones and jawline. But he has softness in him too, like his lips and the way they curl up when he smiles.   
  
He drops his bag and coat onto the floor as soon as Junhui moves, taking in a sharp breath. Junhui grins, crossing the space between them in few quick strides and reaching to lock the door. Then his hands land on both sides of Minghao’s head, caging him. Up close like this, Minghao is reminded how Junhui is taller than him, but it’s effortless for him to pull Junhui down to reach his mouth, catching Junhui’s lower lip into his mouth. A knee spreads Minghao’s legs apart slightly, pressing up against his crotch. He lets out a sigh into Junhui’s mouth, and Junhui’s hand moves to cradle his face.   
  
Junhui licks into his mouth, and Minghao just lets his jaw go slack and sinks against the door while Junhui’s tongue pushes against his own. It’s slightly slobbery but it’s good, and when Junhui moves back he bites on Minghao’s lower lip and _pulls,_ making him let out a breathy sound that echoes off the walls. Junhui’s knee is pushing against him again, and Minghao tries to ignore the fact that he’s already half hard, but Junhui just smiles at him and reaches down to undo his pants. Minghao ducks his head down to mouth at Junhui’s jaw and throat lazily, and his head doesn’t catch up with his body until he has his hand pushing on Junhui’s chest, until the elder is backed up against the sink.   
  
Junhui looks surprised but not at all like he minds when Minghao stares up at him intensely, grabbing at his hips and turning Junhui around so he’s facing the mirror and can lean on his hands against the sink. Junhui grins at him through the reflection, his excitement evident on his face, and Minghao reaches around Junhui to undo his pants and slip a hand into his underwear. When he wraps his long fingers around Junhui’s cock, Junhui takes a sharp breath and lets his eyes flutter close, clutching the edges of the sink and leaning in further.   
  
Minghao can see him clearly through the mirror while stroking him, how Junhui’s mouth falls open slightly, how his face ripples with emotion when his breath hitches and a low moan rolls off of his tongue. Minghao needs to stand on his tiptoes to lean his face into Junhui’s neck, kissing and sucking on the skin behind his ear, because the guy is too fucking tall.   
  
“Oh my god,” Junhui opens his eyes slightly and looks at his reflection, another moan escaping his mouth, and he then finds Minghao’s eyes on him.  
  
“Look at you, hyung.” Minghao’s own voice cracks slightly while whispering into Junhui’s ear, his other hand brushing hair away from his face. Junhui leans into the touch, his hips chasing Minghao’s fist to fuck into it, gasping.   
  
Minghao can’t stop staring at Junhui’s gorgeous face while it twists up when he’s concentrating on getting closer to his release, and he tightens his grip on Junhui’s cock by a fraction. Junhui whines, low in his throat, and Minghao bites down on the lobe of his ear. His hand is slick with precum, making it easier for him to speed up, and Junhui tries to match his pace with his thrusts but it’s messy and hurried.   
  
Junhui bites his lip as he watches himself then meets Minghao’s eyes. And he seems to already be close to spilling, which in turn makes Minghao feel _ruined_ because Junhui must be _really_ turned on by this _holy shit._   
  
“You like seeing yourself like this, hyung?” He looks like he’s trying to say something, but only a whimper comes out, and Minghao presses closer to mumble into his ear, “Come for me,” his voice too heated and too raw, making his skin crawl. Junhui’s hips stutter and he stifles his cry with a hand as he comes over Minghao’s fingers.   
  
Minghao presses in further to kiss the back of Junhui’s neck, and reaches to wash off his hand in the sink. Junhui laughs breathily, sneaking a glance at him through the mirror while tucking himself back into his pants.   
  
He can barely turn off the faucet before Junhui backs up and turns around, pushing him against the door with a thump. He presses a lazy kiss on his lips, before looking Minghao in the eye for what feels like the longest time, and then dropping to his knees.   
  
He can only stare at him in awe as Junhui shimmies Minghao’s jeans and underwear down to his thighs, all the while holding his gaze, searching Minghao’s face intently from under his eyelashes. Minghao’s breath hitches when his cock springs from his underwear, and Junhui smiles fondly, reaching up to tug on it a few times. A shaky sigh escapes his lips, which turns into a choked up whine when Junhui presses a kiss to the head and then sets back on his heels. He opens his mouth wide for him, and just fucking _waits_ , looking at Minghao in encouragement. Minghao wants to cry, break into sobs, wail until there’s nothing of him left.   
  
He brings a hand to the top of Junhui’s head, and with the other guides his cock to his lips, edging into his mouth. And that’s when Junhui wraps his lips around him, humming as if in contentment and Minghao is sure this will haunt his dreams as long as he lives. “Hyung, ah—” Junhui grabs at his exposed hips and starts to take him in deeper, cheeks hollowing and eyes fluttering close. Minghao has to let go of Junhui’s hair and bring his hand up to his mouth to silence himself, his shaky moans echoing clear inside the bathroom even though they’re muffled by his palm. Junhui pulls off of him with an obscene wet pop, and tongues at his slit. He smiles up at him sweetly, planting light kisses down his entire length.     
  
“ Hao,” he coos, as saccharine as he can muster, mouthing at Minghao’s base. It has him shivering and sinking his teeth into his hand. “You don’t have to hold back, come on.” And Minghao wants to let it out, he wants to do as Junhui says, _wants to be good_ , but he shakes his head. Junhui looks disappointed, licking at his head slowly, lapping up precum.   
  
“But you’re so cute when you’re loud, please?” Minghao whines through his hand and Junhui pouts, bringing his hand up to stroke him in long, languid strokes, before taking him in his mouth again. Minghao keeps muffling himself, thank god , because Junhui hums and does flicks with his tongue just so that it makes his knees buckle. His hands slide down from Minghao’s hips to knead at his thighs, fingernails sinking into the flesh, the pressure not enough to hurt him but still _there_   Junhui’s mouth, wet, hot and fucking relentless works around him, and Minghao feels sure enough while biting down in his lip to bring the hand covering his mouth down to grab at Junhui’s hair.   
  
Junhui sighs around his dick and looks up at him with a clear glint in his eyes. Minghao thinks Junhui might just be the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, pulling at his hair and Junhui takes the hint gladly, taking him in deeper. The corners of his mouth are stained with spit and precum, some dripping down to his chin, and his eyelashes look unbelievably long against his high cheekbones. Minghao swallows his whimper, letting his head fall back against the door.   
  
His whole lower body feels like it’s on fire, whatever Junhui’s hands touch burns and the skin under his fingernails aches. Junhui opens his mouth wider, letting the head of Minghao’s cock graze the back of his throat.   
  
He doesn’t know if Junhui knows him that well, that he can tell by the quivering of his thighs or the shakiness of his hands that Minghao is close, but he does speed up just as Minghao’s orgasm quivers his core. He starts dragging the hands on his thighs down, nails raking over the quivering muscles. Junhui’s teeth scrape his shaft slightly, and that’s when Minghao comes inside Junhui’s mouth with a low moan. The elder settles back on his heels and lets the rest of his release drip to the floor, swallowing whatever he had caught on his tongue.   
  
They stay like that for a moment, Junhui still on his knees, Minghao sinking against the door and staring at the ceiling.   
  
“You'll be out of job soon if you keep blowing customers in the bathroom.” Minghao’s voice is hoarse, and he glances down at Junhui who’s busy wiping spit and cum from his face. He smiles up at him, licking his hands, bright and flushed and messy and absolutely gorgeous.   
  
“It’s not like I blow just anyone. You’re special.” And now the guy is just fucking with him, his stupid face too earnest and his words too much what Minghao wants to hear, needs to hear. Minghao tugs his pants up and tucks himself in, gathering up his things from the floor.   
  
Junhui pulls him in before Minghao can leave, pressing their lips together and mumbling a sweet “See you later” against them. Minghao leaves the bathroom feeling flustered, frustrated and completely fucked over and that sensation doesn’t leave even when he exits the building, his heart hammering in a panicked rhythm.   
  
  
***   
  


He slips through the main doors and slowly makes his way downstairs to the practice rooms and dance studios closed away in the basement floor. The stairway echoes in a familiar resonance. Minghao steps into one of the studios, his nervousness first bleeding out when he spots Soonyoung by the mirror, and then returning as tension as Soonyoung spots him. The elder smiles, but eyes his appearance from head to toe, walking over to the door to grab his water bottle. Sweat is caught in his hair, falling to the floor.

“It's rare to see you here, down in the dungeons,” Soonyoung says, voice full of laughter but it still makes Minghao feel a stir of guilt, brewing inside his chest. “Looks like you didn't come to practice,” he adds, then drinks from the bottle. Minghao stares at the floor, at his sneakers that aren't for dancing, sinking in further into his ratty hoodie. He shakes his head.

“You're going to rust away, you know.”

Minghao nods, not lifting his gaze.

Soonyoung smiles, setting the bottle down and pulling him into a quick hug by his neck, patting his back. Minghao is used to the hugs and casual skinship Soonyoung is always offering by now, but still snorts into Soonyoung's shoulder and sits down to the floor when the elder lets him go. Soonyoung sits down next to him, pulling out his phone from his bag.

“I need advice, hyung. Or help. Whichever is good.” Minghao starts, pulling his knees close to his chest. Soonyoung looks curious, and hums in thought.

“Okay…” he says, slowly. “Shoot. I'll do my best.”

“There is, uh, this guy.” His voice sounds shaky and unsure, and he is not completely clear on why he came to Soonyoung for advice, other than the alternative being Mingyu who has never had a stable relationship in his life and keeps falling for every older girl that looks his way, or Seungcheol who would probably find Junhui as soon as Minghao is done telling and punch him square in the jaw.   
  
Soonyoung, instead, has been dating the said Seungcheol for years now, and has been helping Minghao deal with his shit since the beginning of university, and hopefully now won’t be any different. He’s the big brother figure Minghao will never admit he has or needs, because he needs to draw the line somewhere.   
  
But now Soonyoung is just staring at him, sympathetic. “I’m sorry, but I’m already spoken for.” Minghao elbows him in the side with an offended face, and Soonyoung yelps and laughs. Minghao huffs and smiles slightly, shifting to be more comfortable. “So, this guy.” Soonyoung tries to stay civil, but his wide grin bleeds into his voice and Minghao can hear it even without looking at him. “You sweet on him?”   
  
The expression sounds like something his grandpa would ask him, but he lets it slide. Minghao leans his chin on his knees, staring at himself in the mirror on the opposite wall, frowning. “Yeah, I—I think I am.” A pause. “Nah I’m fucking smitten.”   
  
Soonyoung’s expression is soft, caring, it makes Minghao feel unwell because he knows the following question even before he hears it.  “And does he like you?”   
  
“We haven’t discussed.” Minghao feels a heat creep up his neck, refusing to look Soonyoung in the eye, but seeing his utterly confused look through the mirror. “…We have just had sex multiple times.”   
  
“…Wow, okay, uh.” Soonyoung seems lost for a second before getting back on track. “Um… When did this start?” He sounds serious, but also cautious. Minghao can’t blame him.

“The day Seungcheol-hyung had the party at his house.”

Soonyoung nods, and seems to be thinking, hard.   
  
“So, what is the issue exactly?  Do you want to be more than sex? Does he?” Minghao stares at the floor in front of him, not able to look at himself in the mirror anymore. Soonyoung moves to sit in front of Minghao, making it so their eyes meet. He looks worried, about Minghao or his feelings, he isn’t sure.

“I don't know. But he keeps saying weird shit.”  
  
And that is why he’s here, because Wen Junhui keeps confusing him with his weirdly affectionate and caring words while they’re in a no strings attached relationship where those have no place, and Minghao can’t figure him out.   
  
“He told me I’m special today.” He sounds confused and frustrated, and Soonyoung’s face ripples with a passing look of compassion. His hands come up to cover his knees, the touch comforting.  
  
“…Is that what you, uh, wanted to hear?” Soonyoung’s voice is barely more than a whisper, and Minghao just doesn’t want to admit it out loud, but Soonyoung gives his knees a squeeze.   
  
“Yes.” Soonyoung looks sad. “Or— I don’t know. I never thought he would tell me things like that, and it’s just bizarre, and I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I thought he wanted a relationship that’s… not a relationship, where we don’t say shit like that. But he keeps throwing them out there.” He huffs out a breath, pushing his hair back from his face.   
  
“I’ve tried to make distance, you know. Like never staying the night, and not asking questions. Because it feels like if I get to know him, I’m in too deep. But he keeps being so fucking _extra_ and it’s hard to deal with.”

  
Soonyoung stares at him for the longest time. “You’re already in too deep.”   
  
“…So you think I’m overreacting?” Minghao brings his hand up to rest on Soonyoung’s own, teasing the fabric of his sleeve between his fingers. Soonyoung groans, shoulders slumping.   
  
“I don’t know, maybe? But you like him, and if he doesn’t know, this can’t end well.” Minghao nods slowly, feeling like he’s a kid being reprimanded. “Either he knows, and he has you figured out and knows what you want to hear, which is really creepy and bordering on taking advantage of you. Or he doesn’t know, and he really just says these things because he means them.” Both of them sound like Junhui and Minghao wishes this all would just go away.   
  
“So, if I were you, I’d test it. This is my advice.” Minghao looks up, and Soonyoung looks so serious and sure he actually feels bad about not understanding what he means.

“How _in god’s name_ am I supposed to test it, hyung?”

Soonyoung grabs his head, as if gathering his attention. “Go full out Nancy Drew on him, okay? Gather all the hints and clues. See if he’s just after your ass, or if he wants your heart too.” Minghao grimaces, but Soonyoung looks so stern he just nods firmly. Soonyoung smiles and pinches his cheeks before letting go.

“I gotta run, kiddo, Seungcheol is crashing by when he gets off of his shift.” Soonyoung ruffles his hair and it’s all so dad he wants to gag, but settles for sighing deeply and letting Soonyoung get up and gather his things.

“Tell hyung I said hi,” Minghao mutters, getting up as well and they both leave the room and start walking out of the department. His feet are dragging, brain going into overdrive on trying to figure out how to do the detective work Soonyoung believes him to fulfill.   
  
Deep in a state of concentration, Minghao misses it when Soonyoung glances at him and smiles, small and fond. “You should come over too, he misses you.” Minghao snorts, and once they get past the front doors into the cold windy weather he shrugs, kicking a can of soda from the steps. “Seungcheol-hyung misses anyone he hasn’t seen in 24 hours, that’s just how he is.”   
  
He laughs loudly, his smile making his eyes bunch up and it’s rejuvenating to see. Minghao smiles too, a genuine happy smile. “I’ll come over one of these days, tell him I’ll see him around then.”   
  
Soonyoung offers him a ride home but he insists he doesn’t need one, feeling like it might do him good to be busted by the wind tonight.

  
***

  
He keeps reminding himself of what Soonyoung told him yesterday, encouraging, psyching himself up. Minghao leans against Junhui’s front door in the _surreally_ clean hallway—the apartment building is so well managed and spotless compared to what he’s used to seeing. He has it relatively okay back home, but just walking into the building Mingyu lives in makes him always feel like he’ll catch something just from breathing in the air.   
  
“Minghao?”   
  
Minghao turns quickly to see Junhui, and it hits him that he’s definitely not here to end it when he sees him. He could not. Junhui’s wearing a crisp white shirt and dark spotless slacks, a long coat thrown over his shoulders. He smiles slightly, looking a bit tired but glad, his hair landing messily on his face. Minghao feels like he can’t swallow without probably choking on his spit, so he just keeps on staring, wide-eyed.   
  
Junhui laughs at him, quietly and in the way Minghao likes, his lips curling up softly and his teeth showing. “Shut up, I tried to land a better job.” Minghao nods slowly, feeling the tips of his ears burning. He has never seen Junhui dressed in smart casual and it’s _fucking him up._   
  
“How did it go?” he forces out, while trying not to show how much he is freaking out internally. Junhui shrugs, but doesn’t look disappointed.

“I have a good feeling.” Junhui reaches for his pocket, starting to dig up his keys. He tilts his head slightly then, meeting his eyes. “What are you doing here?” Minghao feels his brain freezing up.   
  
“I—um…” He reaches for words, but everything he can come up with sounds stupid enough inside his head he doesn’t dare to say them out loud. “I just wanted to see you.” Junhui looks like he’s putting something together slowly, his face relaxing as in understanding, but Minghao has no clue what it is he’s suddenly realizing. Junhui smiles widely, and Minghao feels something clawing at the back of his throat, words maybe, but they just don’t come, and then Junhui strides to close the distance between them. While he reaches to unlock the door, he presses a kiss to the side of Minghao’s mouth, gentle and quick, before pulling him into the apartment.   
  
Junhui pushes him against the door, and buries his face into the collar of Minghao’s shirt, their bodies pressed flush against each other. Then he just _stays_ there, his arms sneaking around Minghao’s waist and holding him, and it’s a fucking _embrace_ and Minghao hopes Junhui can’t hear his erratic breathing while he’s spiraling into panic.   
  
“I missed you today.” Junhui sighs slightly through his nose and murmurs against his skin.

 _What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck_ —Minghao does his best not to whine out loud, his eyes closing. He reaches to tug at Junhui’s coat, hands shaking, bringing him slightly closer. Junhui presses a light kiss to his neck. He keeps trailing up his neck, his lips barely touching Minghao’s skin but still making him shiver. He makes it to his jaw, from there to his lips, before stepping back, letting go, leaving Minghao against the door. He doesn’t dare to open his eyes, but can hear Junhui kick off his shoes and remove his coat, then a door closing somewhere in the apartment.   
  
Minghao is pretty sure Junhui can’t hear him, so he lets himself breathe out a small whimper before leaving his shoes and coat next to the front door and making his way to Junhui’s bedroom. His nerves are all over the place, mouth dry and face burning, and he sits down on the bed just to think his life and choices over. Junhui’s words keep rewinding inside his head and everything feels like it’s too much, like he’s finally starting to drown in the _abyss_ that is Wen Junhui and he really needs to get out before it’s too late.   
  
Minghao falls down on his back on top of the dark blue covers, staring at the ceiling and listening to the bathroom door opening, and Junhui walking into his room and what sounds like him drying his face with a towel. He breathes in steady through his nose, and soon Junhui enters his field of vision, looking at him with curiosity. There are still drops of water gathering on his jaw. Minghao wants to reach up and wipe them away.   
  
Junhui leans in, looming over him. The room seems to be absolutely silent, sounds of clocks muting up and the cars outside disappearing. Junhui’s hand settles next to his head.   
  
“Junhui.” Junhui nods, an I’m listening lingering around them, and he gets on the bed, pulling off Minghao’s socks. A small smile tugs on Minghao’s lips. He closes his eyes for a minute, bathing in the slow and the calm filling up the room, before meeting Junhui’s gaze.   
  
“I want to go slow today.”   
  
Junhui turns away and to look back at him so quickly it stresses Minghao out, a feeling of dread settling inside him, but he keeps nothing from showing on his face. Junhui seems surprised, taken aback even. Minghao licks his lips.   
  
“No?”   
  
Junhui quickly shakes his head. “No, it’s not that.” Junhui moves so he’s settled between Minghao’s legs, and a smile so fucking _affectionate_ pulls on his lips. “You’ve just never asked for any favours, kid.” He leans in, to push his sweater up slightly and run his thumbs over the skin on Minghao’s hips. “Or set the pace.”   
  
Minghao holds in a breath as Junhui pushes his sweater up further, planting a kiss next to the trail of fine dark hairs below Minghao’s navel. When he looks up, Junhui is beaming.   
  
“It means you’re into this, right?” Minghao bites on his lip, Junhui’s words making him feel unnecessarily hot and like the room is void of air. “Into me?” He moves in closer, pulling on Minghao’s sweater until he gets it off of him and then leaning for a kiss. “How do you want it?” He says the words against his lips, his breath hot and tasting slightly like cigarettes.   
  
“Slow.” Minghao’s too close to meet Junhui’s eyes, his voice hoarse. “Like… like loving.”   
  
His heart is hammering and palms sweating when Junhui pulls back to look at him for a second, with his face giving out nothing about his thoughts. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t laugh or demand an explanation, he doesn’t get grossed out. But Minghao can’t tell if he takes it because he wants it too, or because he thinks Minghao needs a break from life so they are doing some tame vanilla roleplay to make it better. Both options make him feel stressed.   
  
Junhui leans back in, his lips melting against Minghao’s easily, and all tension bleeds out of his body. His tongue licks into his mouth, and it’s deep and heated, but still slow enough that if Minghao closes his eyes and imagines them in another situation, it could even be treasuring. It could be perfect. It could be loving.   
  
Junhui plants kisses to the side of his mouth, moving down to mouth at his jaw and neck, biting and bruising as he moves on. He sinks his teeth right next to his adam’s apple, sucking on the skin and making Minghao groan, and repeating over his collarbones. Every bruise he leaves he kisses, chaste and light, the gesture is delicate enough to make Minghao’s thoughts cloud over and grab at the sheets by his sides.   
  
A hand slides up his stomach to play with a nipple between his fingers, and Minghao gasps for air as Junhui brings his mouth down to suck it into his mouth. He feels too sensitive, too _open_. Junhui flicks his tongue over the nipple and he lets out a breathy moan, mouth falling open. Junhui’s other hand teases the other one, and Minghao can feel him smiling against him. His fingers are rough against his skin, calloused and kind of bumpy. Minghao wishes he knew what Junhui has done to get them like that.   
  
Junhui props his chin on his chest, eyes roaming over his features as if looking for something. But Minghao can’t give him anything, just _lying_ there, chest heaving and face burning. And Junhui’s face softens and Minghao is so _confused_.   
  
“You’re pretty.”   
  
Letting out a quiet whine, Minghao covers his face with his hand. Junhui is _evil,_ absolutely and utterly fucking evil, and can’t not know what his words are doing to him.   
  
Junhui’s fingers feel rough when they wrap around his wrist and bring it against his lips. Minghao can only watch in awe as Junhui gives an open mouthed kiss on his wrist, eyes slipping shut. Giving in, he relaxes against the bed, and Junhui lets it go.   
  
His lips feel hot against him as they trail down his chest and stomach, biting his hipbone and dipping his tongue into his bellybutton, small things that make Minghao feel like smiling. Junhui smiles back at him, working open the button and zipper of Minghao’s jeans and immediately mouthing at the newly exposed skin, making his hips snap up from the bed.   
  
Junhui chuckles and starts to pull down his jeans, leaving his underwear on. Once they’re taken care of, Junhui sits up, settling on his heels, and drags Minghao closer on the mattress so he can bring Minghao’s foot to rest on his shoulder. Minghao laughs, because he has never experienced so much kissing _all over_ and it’s starting to feel silly. Junhui’s lips curl up, and he presses an open mouthed, lazy kiss on his ankle, leaning in and continuing the trail down his leg. It’s slightly ticklish and it makes him squirm, and when Junhui reaches the backside of his knee and sucks on the incredibly sensitive skin he lets out a loud yelp. Junhui’s smirk is so obnoxious but still very attractive as he keeps teething at the skin, and his voice grows into a moan.   
  
A hand caresses the inside of his thigh, kneading at the flesh. Junhui’s fingers ghost above the waistband of his boxers, hooking his fingers on it and letting go so it snaps back against Minghao’s skin, making him jump and kick the elder weakly with his other leg. Junhui snickers at his offended face and moves his mouth, nipping on Minghao’s thigh until he’s biting down.   
  
Minghao cries out, equally turned on and upset, and he throws a glare at Junhui who laps at the reddened skin. He seems to be enjoying this a bit too much—being slow, teasing. And Minghao knows he’s the one who asked for this, but the way Junhui is an absolute dick about it makes frustration bubble up.   
  
Junhui’s other hand lands to palm him through his underwear, and it’s so sudden but needed and Minghao’s hips snap up from the bed to meet the touch. Junhui barely moves though, his hand staying still and his mouth sucking a hickey on the skin of his inner thighs.   
  
“Junhui.” His speech comes out hasty and breathy, and Junhui looks up to see him teething his lip, face probably slightly red and his whole upper body a bruised mess. Junhui seems pleased, he has a thing for leaving marks, touching them afterwards, leaving new ones next to the ones that are old and fading.   
  
“You said you wanted to go slow. This is me, going slow.” Junhui finally moves his hands to grab at the waistband of his boxers, ready to get them off. He starts pulling them down, excruciatingly slow, and Minghao lifts up his hips to assist.   
  
“You’re a jackass.” Minghao’s voice drips with weak bitterness. Junhui laughs, bright and loud, and yanks the underwear off of him. Minghao gasps, his cock free from the fabric and lying fat and heavy against his belly. Junhui sets back and stares him down, his tongue darting from between his lips to wet them, and Minghao’s knees feel weak.   
  
Junhui leans his head back down to his thigh, and leans in suck roughly on the spot where his inner thigh meets his groin. He keeps their eyes locked when he wraps his fingers around Minghao’s cock, not really stroking more than he’s just holding him in his grip. Minghao keens, writhing slightly while trying to reach friction.   
  
Junhui is smiling up at him, moving to mouth at his base and give Minghao’s cock a long lick until he reaches the head, and Minghao hates the way the absolutely obscene moan he lets out at that sounds so loud in the room. “ _Please_ ” His thighs are shaking in anticipation.   
  
Planting wet kisses to the head, Junhui keeps staring up at him and it’s the absolutely most arousing thing he has ever witnessed, makes his toes curl. His fingernails bite into Junhui’s scalp and Junhui lets out a small happy sigh, taking Minghao into his mouth gladly. “ _Oh my god_.” His pink lips look amazing wrapped around him and Junhui probably knows it, inching down slowly and putting on a show. He comes back up slowly, running his tongue along the entire length and then sucking on the tip sharply. Minghao feels like he might actually _die_ , it feels amazing and Junhui is amazing but it’s just not satisfying enough. His hips jump up from the bed to fuck into Junhui’s mouth, but the elder grabs them and holds them down against the bed firmly, making Minghao let out a high pitched whine.   
  
Junhui pulls off of him with an obscene pop, mouthing at the underside. “You’re so impatient.” He nips at the skin. “It’s so cute,” He has his annoying charming smile plastered on his face while cooing, not seeming to feel sorry at all about drawing this whole thing out like the absolute dickwad he is. “Be good.” A weak whimper rolls out of Minghao’s mouth, and he nods hurriedly. Junhui smirks and huffs a breathy “Good boy,” before wrapping his lips around his cock again.   
  
Minghao closes his eyes as he takes a solid grip of Junhui’s hair on his other hand and grabs the sheets with the other. His hips still try to move against Junhui’s hold, but the elder keeps him still, his head bobbing leisurely. Slick noises ensue from his lips gathering up precum and spit, his mouth stopping from time to time to flick a tongue at his tip and lapping on the slit. By now Minghao’s chest is heaving, his breath hitching whenever Junhui stops to sharply suck his cheeks in.   
  
He looks down to see Junhui letting his cock fall from his mouth, a string of saliva stuck to his mouth that he licks away, lips swollen and pink and glistening. His hair is falling over his eyes and Minghao brushes it away gently, and Junhui’s lips curl up slightly. He takes a few breaths before taking him into his mouth again, and his jaw goes slack and he takes all of him in and Minghao can see stars when his head hits the back of Junhui’s throat. It’s wet and hot, and Junhui comes up to breathe and it sounds so filthy but so _good_ , and he quickens his pace.   
  
Minghao’s breathing sounds like a mess of heavy sobs, his orgasm building up steadily and making his stomach quiver and toes curl. He wants to thrust up, go deeper, but Junhui hums and holds him in place. “Fuck, _fuck, fuck , fuck_ —” He barely registers the words leaving his mouth, but he loves the way Junhui moans around him when he says them. Junhui lets go of his hip and brings a hand to stroke him, quick and frantic, at the base where he doesn’t reach, while sucking sharply and tonguing at the head. Minghao comes while biting his lip through the fucking pornographic wail he lets out, and Junhui keeps working his mouth around him until he’s shaking and the stimulation is too much and he cries out again.   
  
“Sensitive?” Junhui’s words carry an undertone of apologetic, and his voice is hoarse as if he hasn’t used it in years.

Minghao shakes his head, dazed and heavy. “I’m fine.” He is not, and will probably never be. He’s out of breath and still shivering.   
  
Junhui teeths at his lip, caressing Minghao’s thigh. “Hao?” Minghao hums nods in acknowledgement, head falling back against the pillows. He feels heavy, lazy even. Junhui straightens up, reaches to run his thumb over Minghao’s lower lip, staring at it in awe. “I — Could I fuck your mouth?”   
  
Minghao almost chokes on his spit. “ _Now?_ ” He groans, looking at Junhui, who in turn just grins lopsidedly and shrugs. Minghao sucks his lower lip into his mouth before huffing a “Come here.” He scoots back so he’s propped on the pillows and leaning against the headboard in an angle that doesn’t strain his neck. Junhui’s expression is excited and bright like a kid’s when he settles on Minghao’s chest, knees on either side of him and supporting his weight.   
  
He’s still wearing the smart white shirt, now crumpled beyond salvation, and the front of his trousers is strained by his erection, only inches away from Minghao’s face. He can feel his mouth watering when he ghosts his fingers on Junhui’s belt, working it open with fumbling fingers. Junhui brings a hand to stroke his cheek gingerly enough to make him lean in to the touch, and when Minghao gets his pants undone he pushes them down slightly to pull him out. Minghao rests his hands on Junhui’s thighs, the fine smooth fabric covering them, opening his mouth for him, and Junhui pushes past his lips.   
  
A hand snakes into his hair, threading through the locks while Junhui inches in, groaning and then pulling back out, then pushing back in. Junhui tastes salty with sweat and feels heavy on his tongue, and the way he fills up his mouth is so satisfying. He doesn’t need to move, couldn’t even, with the way Junhui has a fistful of his hair in a tight grip, and the way Junhui surrounds him feels so intimate. Taste, smell, his presence, nails scratching his scalp and low moans sounding somewhere above him. Minghao sucks in his cheeks and flicks his tongue around Junhui, slacking his jaw. Junhui thrusts into his mouth faster, deeper, but careful not to make him gag.   
  
“That’s good, _christ_.” Junhui’s voice jumps, his thighs quivering under Minghao’s hands. The hand in his hair pushes his head back further so it’s flush against the headboard of the bed, making him moan around Junhui’s cock. Junhui hushes him breathily, pulling out slowly, his cock slick with Minghao’s spit. Minghao looks up at him, and Junhui stares back in awe. He takes in Minghao’s tousled hair, obscenely pink puffy lips and the precum smeared on his chin.   
  
“God, I love you like this,” Junhui says softly, and Minghao barely has time to whimper at his words before Junhui guides himself to his mouth again, pushing in. It feels like sparks running through his veins from the tip of his toes to his eyelashes, and all Minghao can hear ringing in his head is how _I love you_ sounds in Junhui’s voice and he suddenly feels choked up and raw. Junhui thrusts in, deep, and tears start to form in his eyes, the burn in his lungs is so good and the pull on his hair amazing. He feels like a wreck, tears making his eyelashes clump up and moaning around Junhui as he fucks his face.   
  
His thighs are shaking, and even his voice sounds strained and shaky when he speaks up. “I’m— _fuck_ , I’m _so close,_ ” Minghao opens his eyes to look up at him, his vision blurry. “You — Can I…?” Minghao shakes his head the best he can, while Junhui has a grip at the back of his head. He can’t swallow without choking in this angle and it makes him whimper. Junhui is biting his lip hard and thrusts in deep, making him gag before pulling out completely and coming all over his chin and neck with a guttural cry, a hand clutching the headboard until his knuckles turn white.   
  
Minghao coughs for a bit, letting his head fall to the side and breathing heavily, eyes fluttering close. Junhui’s thumb swipes across his chin, and it could be gross, the way it gathers up cum on to the side of his mouth, if it wasn’t so soothing. Junhui moves so he isn’t sprawled on his chest anymore, reaching for something on the side of the bed. He settles on Minghao’s side, and brings up a slightly damp towel, probably the one he used while washing his face earlier, to wipe him clean. His belt clinks slightly, most likely from tucking himself in back to his pants.   
  
“You were so good,” Junhui’s lips are almost touching his ear, nose nuzzling the short hairs at the side of his neck. “You were perfect.” Minghao has no energy to wipe away the tears still hanging onto his eyelashes, threatening to roll. Junhui’s thumb wipes them away for him, and he gives a kiss to his ear, his jawline, to the mole on his cheekbone, to the side of his mouth. Minghao feels hazy, and that he might be experiencing some sort of post-sex depression with the way his emotions are all over the place. But he’s also feeling giddy, content, like he himself is experiencing Junhui’s afterglow.   
  
Junhui presses his lips against his, and they exchange kisses so sweet, so tender and something Minghao hasn’t experienced but now feels like he might not be able to live without. Junhui brushes his hair back from his face, sucking on his lower lip, and Minghao thinks _fuck it_ and wraps his hands around Junhui’s neck. He admits it, he’s a dumb lovesick slut for displays of affection from Wen Junhui, so he might just as well act like it. His fingers sink into the short hairs at the back of Junhui’s neck, petting him.   
  
He smiles against his lips, pulling away to unbutton his shirt. Minghao makes a soft noise at the back of his throat, but Junhui shushes him, shrugging the shirt off and setting it down to the floor. The room has gotten darker and darker, but he can see Junhui just fine, his thin but ridiculously muscular arms and toned torso, as if he was radiant. Minghao reaches to run his hand down Junhui’s chest, gingerly enough to make him squirm and shake with laughter and swat the hand away.     
  
Wen Junhui is ticklish. Minghao doesn’t know what to do with the information. Junhui grabs his hand and then pushes at his shoulder, turning Minghao to his side. Minghao feels like he doesn’t have any control over his muscles anymore, and lets himself be manhandled and settles down, until Junhui’s ridiculously warm, naked chest is pressed flush against his back and his arm wraps itself around his hip.   
  
It takes him approximately five silent minutes of Junhui tracing circles to his arm with his thumb and breathing in his hair to realize they are in fact cuddling. Junhui is fucking _spooning_ him, and he’s suddenly wide awake and also slightly freaking the fuck out, but he feels so weightless and calm and good he can’t be bothered to move or spur a thought process to back up his panic. Maybe Junhui was actually a cuddle monster and just now got an opportunity to show it. Or perhaps this was still part of Junhui’s pity party on him, the culmination of the vanilla roleplay. He snorts under his breath, for the thought of Junhui as a person that ridiculously considerate was somehow weird, hard to stomach.   
  
Junhui moves his head slightly so he’s breathing steadily right above his ear, making him squirm, and _what even is Wen Junhui’s damage_ , honestly. Thoughts filling up his head are slowly fogging up and he leans into the warmth that Junhui provides, finding a place between the state of being awake and asleep and staying there.   
  
The press of Junhui’s lips against the skin of his bare shoulder recalls him. “Are you sleeping?” His breath ghosts over him as he speaks, making Minghao shudder. He stretches his legs slightly for they feel heavy from being in the same position for too long.

“I’m not.” His voice sounds stuffy and deep, like he has slept for ages, so the not anymore is out there, hanging in the air. Swallowing, he tries to make it go away. “Why?”   
  
“I don’t know, you just stopped running your mouth for like the last ten minutes so I thought you were giving me the silent treatment or something.” Junhui’s chest shakes with laughter. Minghao nods slowly, trying to pick out from Junhui’s tone if this is fine or not. But the fucker just keeps trailing kisses on his shoulder, the hand on his hip suddenly glaringly obvious, heavy, and warm enough to heat up his bones. He can’t help but to wonder if it’s waiting for his permission, or if the touch is innocent.   
  
But the epiphany that with Junhui _nothing_ is innocent comes in a wave, leaving Minghao licking his lips in anticipation.The moment seems to stretch on forever like its elastic waiting to break. Junhui’s fingers tap on his hipbone, digging in slightly and he sighs, hips shifting slightly and back pressing against the elder’s chest. Minghao turns his head to face Junhui who’s suddenly only inches away. His breath is warm in the puffs against his cheek, gaze resting across the features of Minghao’s face.   
  
A tremor runs down his spine, like his whole body is vibrating. Junhui runs his hand down from his hip to trace the hairs below his navel with his fingertips. Minghao stares at Junhui’s lips, leans in to reach them but Junhui smirks and extends his jaw instead, so the younger can only kiss the skin of his neck. Minghao whines softly, but then chokes when Junhui takes his cock and strokes it slowly, arousal sparking in his gut and spreading through his insides until he feels his skin prickle again. Minghao lets his head fall back against the pillows, hands coming up to hold on to them gently as well.   
  
Junhui doesn’t try to get him off, there is no hurry or no real commitment in his movements or the kisses he plants on the skin of his shoulder and neck, just slowly and almost lazily making him hard again. Minghao sighs, letting himself rest slack jawed and languid, hips slowly starting to chase the touch.   
  
“Can I ask for something again?” Junhui’s tone is playful, and when Minghao giggles breathily he grins too. Minghao calls him selfish, and Junhui smacks his shoulder with his other hand, making an offended noise. “I am not, it would be your turn again after mine.” Minghao laughs, loud and snotty, grinning against his pillow.   
  
“Sure, sure, whatever, just stop talking about sex like it’s a game we need to share.” Junhui’s laughter is breathy and full of glee and it makes Minghao feel so good about himself, though when Junhui mumbles a "Shut up, kid," against his neck while still smiling, he whines, as if offended.   
  
Junhui lets go of his cock that’s already hard and twitching, and while propping himself up turns Minghao on his back. He sets up to look down at the younger, still smiling widely. “So”—Minghao reaches to sweep hair back from Junhui’s face—“what can I do for you?”   
  
Junhui looks unbelievably excited, though his face twists in consideration, lips pursing. He returns the favour, capturing strands of hair from Minghao’s face and brushing them away. When he seems to make up his mind, Junhui presses a kiss to Minghao’s face and speaks against his lips, his voice low.  “Will you prep yourself for me?”   
  
Minghao can’t figure out how the guy manages to sound so sheepish when he’s absolutely sure Junhui could say the filthiest things without batting an eye. Either he’s putting on another act to add into the pity-party vanilla roleplay aesthetic, or he for some other reason wants to randomly redeem himself. Minghao just hums quietly, and nods.   
  
He scoots back so he’s leaning against the headboard of the bed while Junhui gets up to pick up a tube of lube and a condom, throwing them on the bed right next to Minghao’s left foot. Minghao snorts, “Romantic,” and picks up the tube.   
  
Junhui shrugs. “I try.” He lets his slacks fall down from his hips, then lowering his underwear and getting rid of it all until he’s standing there naked, his gaze resting on Minghao’s body.   
  
He can’t help the slight self-consciousness creeping up on him, but gulps a deep breath and spreads his legs wide apart. Minghao grabs at his other knee, pulling it back slightly so he’s open, bare, spread all for Junhui to see, and it makes him feel so hot it’s ridiculous. Lubing up his fingers, he brings them down to his ass and breathes out in a short, heavy puff as he lets the tip of his middle finger in, eyes slipping closed because he could not meet Junhui’s gaze.   
  
There were pros to having freakishly long fingers like his. The angle didn’t give any awkward strain to his wrist, even when he pushed in further, up until the first knuckle, taking a few breaths and working in some more and then pulling back until only the tip is left, then back in. He takes his sweet time fucking himself, hearing Junhui’s breathing picking up, before introducing another finger and letting out a soft whine. The burn is there, making his cock twitch and body tense up, but he can work around it, taking slow breaths and relaxing so it’s easy to go deeper.   
  
The stretch makes him feel like he’s wide open, right there for Junhui to see absolutely everything. He can feel Junhui settle on the bed, somewhere away from Minghao’s reach, and Minghao can’t help but to think if he’s watching him, drinking it all in, if he’s touching himself, but doesn’t dare to look. He makes slight scissoring motions with his fingers before he crooks them, making him let out a shaky moan as his insides ripple with the intensity of the feeling.   
  
His other hand comes down to tug at his cock, a whimper escaping his lips. Then he grabs the lube, bringing his fingers up to apply lube on three of them. He needs to pant through the ache, stretch making him squirm. He gets to the first knuckle, taking a moment to breathe and stroke himself again, helping him through the burn. His eyes open lazily, eyelids feeling heavy, and they settle on Junhui sitting on the other side of the bed, face tense and a hand stroking his cock. He’s hard, has gotten hard from watching Minghao finger himself, and it makes Minghao sputter out a moan while chasing his fingers with his hips.   
  
“Jun— _hyung_ ,” Junhui nods slowly, clearly trying to concentrate but failing, but Minghao takes it. “It’s—ah—my t-turn, right?” His words are hasty, words coming out forced.  
  
Junhui smiles and huffs out a low “Yes, whatever you want,” that has his toes curling.   
  
“I, _f-fuck_ —” Minghao keeps stroking himself, quick and hurried, groans high pitched, “I-I want to ride you.” Junhui groans too, reaching for the condom and ripping it open with his teeth, starting to roll it on. Minghao pulls out his fingers and throws the lube over to him, and Junhui moves so his settled with his back against the wall, slicking himself up.   
  
After a few deep breaths Minghao scrambles over to him, straddling Junhui’s lap and quickly sinking his clean hand into Junhui’s hair to pull him into a slobbery kiss, Minghao covering Junhui’s mouth with his own. Junhui’s tongue pushes into his mouth, teases the roof of Minghao's mouth, his hand wrapping itself around both of their cocks and aligning them together, and when Minghao moves his hips they both sigh, relief sparking everywhere it can reach.   
  
“ _Christ_ — just— ” Minghao takes Junhui’s cock by the base, shifts his hips and aligns it with his hole before lowering himself on it. It burns, spreading him, filling him, pushing all the air out of him, and his mouth falls open when he tries to obtain more while whispering in a high pitched tone, “ _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ —” Junhui jerks him off in quick tugs, lubing up his hand so it’s slick and smooth and _so good_ , just what he needs to help with adjusting. Minghao rolls his hips up, so only Junhui’s tip is left inside him, before sinking back down so he finally has almost all of him in. Junhui moans lewdly, his hips snapping up to meet him.   
  
Though his thighs shake with the effort, he builds up a rhythm, fucking himself on Junhui’s cock in quick, shallow thrusts. Junhui thrusts up into him, face relaxing and then tensing up, his eyes glued on Minghao’s features. Minghao grabs at Junhui’s shoulders to support himself better, and mewling almost pornographically when the next thrust grazes against his prostate, and Junhui doesn’t let him stop, flicking his wrist and tightening his grip on him by a fraction. His _obscene_ sounds fill up the room, echoing along the slick noises of Junhui jacking him off and his ass occasionally slapping against Junhui’s thighs.   
  
He lunges forward to suck on Junhui’s lip to stifle himself, and Junhui lets him. He doesn’t stop Minghao from clutching at his shoulders until they’re probably going to bruise, from fucking up into his fist and making the rhythm erratic and all sorts of fucked up. Junhui keeps moaning against his mouth, biting and pulling on his lip, a hand landing on his hip and guiding him back into a pace he can match, and it’s good, amazing even.   
  
Junhui hits in so deep, grabbing at his hips and making sure they grind all the way down, and Minghao is breathless, loud, and can’t help thinking that if time would stop here, when he’s so close to climax but still far enough to stay in Junhui’s lap for just another moment, he wouldn’t mind.   
  
Minghao buries his face into the sweaty crook of Junhui’s neck, suddenly coming with a shout as Junhui brings him down and buries himself into him and he’s coming too, crying out somewhere above him, and it’s like for a moment it’s just them, both of their bodies tensing up before relaxing completely. A tremor shakes through Minghao as Junhui keeps stroking him, repeating Minghao’s name again and again and it sounds like a prayer, only stopping when Minghao can’t stand the touch any further, sobbing against the skin.   
  
The moment lingers on, Junhui’s softening dick still inside his ass but he’s too tired to move, and Junhui wraps his arms around him, a hand resting at the back of his neck and holding him there, and Minghao can’t help but sob again, just from the pure sincerity Junhui shows. The elder shushes him, petting his hair burying his lips just above his ear. And there it was. Slow, loving.   
  
Junhui secures his grip on him and lets them fall to the bed side by side, shifting so he can pull out when Minghao makes a noise of discomfort. He pulls off the condom and throws it to the direction of the trash bin and just settles for that. He huffs out a tired laugh as Minghao refuses to untangle himself, still breathing against his neck, pulling the covers over them both and sighing before going silent.   
  
Minghao breathes him in, it’s warm and it’s suffocating but he’s _cuddling_ with Junhui who’s slowly drifting off to sleep, muttering a “Good night, kid,” in a hoarse voice and grunting in disapproval when Minghao giggles quietly, and it’s all too much what he has wanted.   
  
He falls asleep quickly, surrounded by Junhui.  


***  


When he wakes up, he has turned away from Junhui, his arm hanging off the side of the bed for god knows how long, the whole limb feeling numb. He props himself up and turns to look at the sleeping guy on the other side of the bed, facing the wall, other cheek almost pressed against the cool surface. Junhui snores quietly, and it’s cute enough to make his insides twist.   
  
Minghao reaches for his phone, hidden in the pocket of the jeans discarded on the floor. The clock on the screen tells him it’s 2:46 in the morning. He has been here for over five hours, which makes alarms go off inside his head, telling him to get the hell out of dodge before Junhui wakes up. But an idea, scary and innovative and absolutely unnecessary creeps up on him, making his stomach sink, and Minghao grabs his underwear, silently getting up from the bed and heading to the bathroom.   
  
Once in, he pulls the boxer briefs on and sits down on to the floor, dialing up Soonyoung with shaky hands and and trying to clear his throat. It rings for a good while and for a minute a panic surges through him, thinking he’s left on his own here, but then the dialing tone stops and a voice heavy with sleep replies to him, _“What the fuck?”_   
  
“Seungcheol-hyung?” He keeps his voice in a hushed tone, though it jumps a bit in surprise. He did not need this now. There’s rustling of sheets in the other end, and an indignant groan, and Minghao’s pretty sure Seungcheol has gotten up to check the time.   
  
_“Minghao, I swear to god, it’s almost three in the morning,”_ He feels a bit bad, hearing the sleepiness in his voice.   
  
“I needed to speak to Soonyoung-hyung,” Seungcheol yawns and mumbles something Minghao can’t catch. _“He’s here yeah—”_ Then he seems to think for a second, and when he speaks again his tone is concerned. _“Why are you whispering? Where are you?”_  
  
“ _Please_ , hyung, I really need to talk to him so would you just—” There’s talking and more rustling, and Minghao can figure out Soonyoung’s voice and the phone being moved around. _“Hao?”_   
  
“Hyung, hi, I’m sorry, I know it’s late but I really need you,” Soonyoung shushes a whining Seungcheol in the background and it sounds like he’s struggling, groans a muffled _“I’ll be back in a minute,”_ and moves away from the room, footsteps audible through the line.   
  
_“Wait—why are you whispering? Where are you?”_ Minghao rubs his temples at the questions repeating themselves, stopping himself from groaning. Soonyoung settles down, and Minghao sorts out his thoughts.   
  
“I’m at the guy’s place, the one we talked about yesterday? And, like, I think I should leave? I really, _really_ should leave. I have never stayed the night before and—but— _Hyung_ , I think if I leave now, I won’t ever find out what happens the morning after.” He’s all over the place, staring nervously at the white ceiling, anxiety ripping at his chest.   
  
Soonyoung tries to stay on track, though it takes him a moment to try and gather what Minghao is going at. _“Okay,”_ he draws out, “ _okay. Do you want to find out? Do you want a morning after?”_   
  
“Yes. Or, _shit_ , I don’t know. Hhat if he just kicks me out after waking up? What if he doesn’t?” Soonyoung sounds exasperated as he sighs.   
  
_“There’s only one way to find out, Minghao, so just go with it, okay? Go back to sleep, wake up in the morning feeling all sorts of domesticated, make him cook for you, then if it’s all awkward, get the hell out and come over so you can cry about it to Seungcheol, ‘kay?”_   
  
Minghao nods, but then realizes Soonyoung can’t hear that and whispers a hurried “Okay,” before wishing Soonyoung good night and asking him to apologize to Seungcheol for him.   
  
He hangs up not feeling much surer, but slightly better now that he has a place to go to if—and most likely when—everything goes to hell. He exits the bathroom in perfect silence and makes it back to Junhui’s room, his bed. When he gets under the covers, Junhui’s legs tangle with his own. Smiling into the pillows, he takes a deep breath and starts to feel dread settle into his every limb, though it is a long way until morning.   
  
  
***   
  
  
There is no sun shining into his eyes or birds singing outside the window or a breakfast cooking that wakes him up, no smell of fresh coffee either. His consciousness comes back to him quietly, stirring up his muscles and gradually stopping the even rise of his chest, making him yawn. His cheek is pressed against the bed in a way that probably will leave marks of the sheets bunching against his skin. And the thought hits him it’s probably morning, and he jolts slightly, eyes snapping open.   
  
He doesn’t need to get up to look around, because he finds what he’s looking for right there in front of him. Junhui has his head propped on one arm, facing Minghao and scrolling through his phone. Eyes downcast his eyelashes look long and he can clearly see how they’re much lighter in the ends. Minghao barely dares to breathe, considering to perhaps feign sleep a little while longer. But Junhui glances at him, jumping a bit when he notices he’s awake.   
  
“Hi.” Like this, after a long sleep, his voice sounds deeper, like he’s speaking directly from his chest. It makes him feel like melting into a puddle on the bed and then evaporate.  
  
Minghao blinks slowly, licking his dry lips. “Hi.”  
  
Junhui smiles, setting his phone down. “Did I wake you?” Minghao grunts, clearing his throat and shakes his head, hair falling on his face. “Good.” Junhui reaches to comb it away with his fingers. “This is new.” A grin plasters itself on the elder’s face, all white teeth and defined lips and Minghao wants to sink into the mattress and enter the void beyond this existence.   
  
“What is?” He plays dumb, feigns innocence.   
  
Junhui looks like he knows this is a thing they shouldn’t read into, sees right through him, but wants to do it anyway. “You stayed the night.” His tone has a nuance of fondness in it. Minghao smiles slightly, tired and forced but still there.   
  
“Yeah, sorry about that,” he grouses, bringing up a hand to rub at the corner of his eye. Junhui shakes his head, adjusting himself so he’s more upright.   
  
“I don’t mind. You’re nice to look at, anyways.” Junhui laughs, loud and obnoxious when Minghao groans and tries to cover his face with a hand. Insecurity pools up when he thinks how gross he must look right in the morning, cheeks and eyelids puffy. He even _drools_ , sometimes.   
  
“Shut the fuck up, hyung.” The bed jumps slightly when he kicks Junhui’s hairy leg under the covers, and he just keeps snickering. “Why would you stare at people while they sleep anyway, it’s all sorts of fucked up.” He throws a sour look at Junhui from between his fingers. His lips are pulled into a wide smile, though his brows furrow slightly as if displeased.   
  
“Watch your language, brat.” And in turn Minghao bursts out a laugh, kicking Junhui again but he traps the leg between his ankles, feet grossly cold against him and makes him yelp.   
  
Minghao props himself up on his hands and leans in for Junhui’s lips, but he slams a hand to cover Minghao’s mouth while laughing and doing his best to sit upright. Scowling and letting out a disappointed whine Minghao stares him down until Junhui removes the hand, already moving away from him to get up from the bed and put something on.   
  
“No hard feelings, but I don’t want to find out how disgusting your morning breath is.” He walks over to the dresser in his whole naked glory, pulling out underwear and some joggers and just pulling them on, completely ignoring Minghao staring at his ass from the heap of pillows and sheets he’s lying in.   
  
Junhui has some glaringly tacky red bruises tattered around the base of his neck, hair tousled from sleep and sticking up wildly. The rough texture of the skin of his face is highlighted by the stubble starting to form at his chin. Minghao thinks how it might feel to kiss him like that, without him shaving and the scratch burning a bit.   
  
Junhui walks to the door before glancing back over to the bed. “You getting up?” Minghao makes a sequence of incoherent mumbling into his pillow. Junhui snorts and walks out.   
  
After a few excruciatingly long minutes of listening to Junhui’s footsteps, a kid running around and laughing in an apartment downstairs, and the ticking of Junhui’s alarm clock, he gets up too before his mind has a chance to numb and lull him back to sleep. It’s chilly outside the warm and comforting world created by the sheets that enveloped him just moments before, and he quickly scrambles to get on his jeans and the blue sweater Junhui had unceremoniously tossed to the floor the night before.   
  
For the life of him he cannot find his socks anywhere so he gives up trying to find them for now, leaving Junhui’s room to wander into the bathroom. He washes his face, finds a comb to calm his hair down with, considers looking for a spare toothbrush but deciding against it and just settling for mouthwash, just the bare necessities to feel like a functioning human again. Wishing to smell like one as well, he rummages through Junhui’s stuff, finding a bottle of something sprayable that just has a bunch of French on the side, and tries it. He regrets it right after, the scent of it being weirdly floral and sweet mixed up with musk and now he smells like a baby prostitute. He throws the thing back into the cabinet.   
  
His skin has an awkward hue in the cold lighting of the bathroom, like the tan he had caught during the summer has faded completely and replaced by pallid sickness or a layer of powder. He looks greenish. The hickeys on his neck and collarbones are different hues of red and already bruising purple, and in the crook where his neck meets his shoulder there are marks from Junhui’s teeth. He looks like he has undergone an assault by a teething cannibalistic toddler, or alternatively like a hooker missing the makeup and tacky jewelry. A sigh escapes him, and with it comes also acceptance that this is what he needs to work with, and he opens the door.   
  
In the hall there’s a lingering smell of fresh coffee, something weird and new and probably something he has dreamt about. About coffee in the morning, about talking for a change without it leading to sex, about not doing the walk of shame while trying to sort out his feelings for Junhui, and over-analyzing absolutely everything the elder does. He feels afraid to step into the kitchen.   
  
Junhui turns on a radio. A song plays for a while, but when it ends there is a soft voiced woman speaking a steady chatter of Cantonese, and it makes Minghao’s thoughts race while he leans on the wall. He didn’t know that Junhui knew the language, he doesn’t know where he’s from, where he has lived before this, his hometown, anything about his family or other friends. To Minghao he’s just Wen Junhui, the philosophy major with sexual preferences that complement his and absolutely no shame. He worries the hem of his sweater between his fingers before stepping out of the hallway into the kitchen.   
  
Pouring coffee into a cup, Junhui takes a seat by the small wooden kitchen table and stares at it for a moment before drinking. He looks still like he could do good with a few more hours of slumber, and Minghao tries to ignore the fact that he wants to fawn over the guy and tuck him back into bed. Minghao also gets seated on to the other side of the table, and Junhui looks up and smiles. He has pulled on a plain white t-shirt that makes him glow in contrast.   
  
Minghao can’t stop staring at the radio in the corner of the kitchen counter, trying his best to pick out words he knows here and there but there are close to none. Junhui glances back and forth between him and the device, setting his cup down.   
  
“I can try and find a station in Mandarin too,” he says. Minghao whips his head towards Junhui, taken aback, then shakes it.   
  
“I’m—It’s fine, really, it’s not like I could do much with that either,” Junhui looks like he wants to argue, but settles for drinking his coffee and staring at Minghao, pensive.

His skin burns under Junhui’s gaze, expression turning into somewhat defensive. “What?”   
  
Junhui huffs, bringing an elbow up to the table and leaning his chin on his hand. “Can I ask you something?” His fingers tap along his cheekbone, brows furrowing slightly. “No. Three things. Can I ask three things?”   
  
Minghao’s throat feels tight, so he tries to swallow, but his mouth is also so fucking _dry_ what the hell—He nods dumbly, then stutters out, “If I can ask you three things back, then sure.” It’s a cliché, he’s living through another cliché, and it’s killing him, but so is absolutely everything else.   
  
Junhui smirks. “Okay. So, Xu Minghao, right?” Minghao just looks lost and nods again. “Where are you from?”   
  
“Uhh,” Minghao scratches at the back of his head, a heat creeping up the length of it from the sudden interest Junhui is taking in him, “Originally? Anshan, in Liaoning. But since age four it’s been Anyang, in yours truly. Hence, my Chinese being tragic.” His smile is sheepish and he hates it, he is feeling embarrassed and he hates it, Junhui’s smile is really gentle and he definitely hates that. “Why?”   
  
“Nah, it’s just,” Junhui’s grinning into his mug now, looking away, “I always wondered why you never speak it to me. Also… why you call me hyung.” Minghao is sure the tips of his ears are burning up now, and that the bruises on his neck are looking even more red than before.   
  
“My mother didn’t raise a rude kid. I refer to people in a manner that is correct and polite,” he scoffs, reaching for Junhui’s mug, but Junhui swats his hands away and gets up. The pot has more coffee in it, and a warmth pools deep in his gut when he gets that Junhui has prepared some for him too, grabbing another mug from the cupboards. It’s so domesticated, grossly sweet.   
  
“Well, she got the referring thing down I guess, but if she thinks she didn’t raise a rude kid, she’s in for a broken heart.” Junhui reaches for the sugar but Minghao makes a noise of disapproval, so Junhui just moves back to the table.   
  
He’s handing the mug over, but then stops with a sly, charming smile rising up to his lips. Minghao scowls. “Give it up, hyung.”   
  
Junhui sits back and yanks the mug back, still grinning. “Just once, call me gēgē.”   
  
Minghao stares at him for what feels like hours. “You’re sublimely exhausting.” He feels flustered and gross, Wen Junhui makes him flustered and gross and there is nothing worse. Junhui’s smile becomes more soft, gentle, pleading.   
  
“Come _on,_ just once?” The rhythm feels odd inside his mouth when he tests it out silently, then Junhui hands the mug towards him and he looks expectant and happy, and Minghao wishes he could just die, wither away.   
  
_“.. Xièxiè gēgē.”_ His voice wavers a bit as he takes the mug, and he can see Junhui’s smile slip away into something unreadable, drinking the coffee and concentrating on the bitterness of it. He doesn’t feel a bit as embarrassed as he feels pleased with himself.   
  
“I get to ask one now?” Not that there is any part of him in him that wants to go through with this, they are already sharing things and it’s weird and bizarre. But he wants to know more. “Where are you from?”   
  
Junhui smiles slightly, looking down at the table. “Shenzhen, I moved here during middle school. Thus, my Mandarin and Cantonese are intact.” Minghao nods, not able to say anything because the room is slowly filling up with whatever suffocating emotion Junhui was reliving while thinking about his hometown, the depths of it adorning the edges of his face. He has never seen Junhui look even close to upset, and it destroys him.   
  
But soon Junhui turns his lips upwards, striving for a lopsided smile but it ends up being without any of the real cheerfulness. He looks pleased to see Minghao so uncomfortable. Gross, absolutely disgusting, Minghao wants to kiss the smugness off of him.   
  
“Well, then. Tell me”—Minghao takes a sip while waiting for Junhui to finish—“why do you always scoot right after concluding your business with me?” And he ends up almost spitting the coffee everywhere but manages to swallow, tears dwelling in his eyes while he coughs. Junhui doesn’t look sympathetic.

Minghao freezes in place while his brains blank out for a good while, then glances around the room, rummaging through his head for ideas, anything really. His eyes land back on Junhui, and they meet his, and he looks so serious all of a sudden, the fucker.

Like the truth is what he actually wants, not explanations to make them both feel better about things and being able to move on and keep doing what they’ve always done. Do they do honest now? And when did Junhui notice, and why? _Why the fuck does he care._  
  
Wasn’t that what he was supposed to do? To leave all that was unnecessary out of it?   
  
Minghao moves his tongue, fat and heavy inside his mouth, forms actual words. “You never asked me to stay, ever. So I thought it was…” His hands are shaking slightly, gripping at the edges of the table. “…Unnecessary, not something you looked for. I thought we don’t do that.”   
  
Junhui’s stare at him is intense, and he looks hurt, even, in some way. Maybe because he’s being childish and lowkey trying to move the fault over to him. “You think it’s all about me?” Minghao frowns, confused and irritated and embarrassed and just not even knowing what it is he feels.   
  
“You only get one question at a time, right?”   
  
_“Minghao.”_ Junhui also sounds irritated, like he’s reprimanding a child that won’t behave. It makes frustration bubble up violently, not the kind that makes him lash out but the kind that makes him stare at a wall while he’s trying to not to show how much he wants to cry and apologize for whatever it is he has done. To trust the authority Junhui holds more than himself to know if he has even done anything wrong.   
  
“I wouldn’t fool around with you if I didn’t care. But you need to tell me what you want”—Junhui pulls in a sharp breath—“or what you need.” He makes it sound so great, like the fact that they have sex also means that they have the support and caring part down without the relationship and love. He has a way with words.   
  
“What I mean is I wouldn’t kick you out, even if you stayed. I—” He fists up some of his hair, pulling it away from his face as if nervous. “I’d like you to stay behind, hang out, do whatever. I never said I wouldn’t want to know shit about you.” Something grabs at Minghao’s chest and squeezes until the pain borders on the worst he has ever experienced.

“We fuck, Junhui. And that’s it, that’s—” Minghao tries to keep the dwelling up emotion away from his voice, to stop it from shaking violently. “That’s what I thought you wanted from me, so I fucking provided, okay?” His words are sharp, sharper than he intended for them to be, and he doesn’t want to hurt Junhui, doesn’t want to blame him, but all that comes out of his mouth is laced with salt.   
  
Junhui searches his face, and Minghao realizes this isn’t only the first time he is seeing Junhui this serious, it’s also Junhui’s first time seeing him act like this. They're fighting.  
“Why are you mad?” he asks, and it makes Minghao grimace and pinch his own thigh to make the annoyance dissipate from his body.   
  
“I’m not.” Junhui huffs out a breath.   
  
“I thought you agreed to this because you wanted to, so I—” He sounds irritated too, like he’s tired of trying to understand him, “You don’t need to do anything just for me.”   
  
No matter how much he tries to keep the boiling poison down, it seeps into his voice as he stares at the table and spits out a “Yes I fucking do.” _I would do anything really, no one would have to ask, no one would have to know, I would._   
  
Another song starts playing, light and catchy but pleasant. Junhui stays silent, and Minghao can’t see him but he can imagine his face twisting up as he finally gets it, and the truth is finally out there, and Minghao doesn’t feel a bit lighter, not even a fraction. Instead his hands shake violently enough that he can’t keep the coffee cup in them anymore, stomach twisting restlessly enough to make him nauseous. He breathes through his teeth, closes his eyes and ignores the burn behind them.   
  
“Do you like me, hyung?” It’s forced, as if he’s going to cry. But he refuses to.   
  
Junhui breathes in sharply. “I’m considering it.” And there’s the answer he came to look for. Blood runs cold inside his veins.   
  
Neither of them move, don’t say anything. The song comes to an end and Minghao realizes how the moment has been swimming past them. The room is void of air, and as soon as the radio host starts talking again, Minghao shoots up from his chair to head to the door.   
  
“Wait, Hao—” Junhui gets up too, but shifts the table so that the coffee escapes all over the table from the mugs with a loud thunk, and Minghao makes it to the hall before Junhui grabs his arms and tries to turn him around.   
  
“No, hyung, would you _just fucking —_ ” His voice breaks when he tries to half-assedly swat his hands away, but Junhui gently pushes him against a wall and holds on. “…I just want to _go_.” He stares at his bare feet, vision blurring up. He just wants out, away from _him_.

Junhui has his hands wrapped around his slender forearms. He swallows down, licking his lips. When he speaks, it’s just a low whisper. “I don’t want you to go.”   
  
Minghao breathes out a shaky sigh when the first tear rolls down to his cheek, and it’s followed by a whine. “You’re selfish, hyung, you’re so _fucking_ selfish.” A sob, his hand grabs at the fabric of Junhui’s shirt. “You’re like _this,_ you give me _things_. And, and you make me feel like _this_.”  Another sob, deep and heart-wrenching, and he really doesn’t want to cry in front of Wen Junhui because he gets _red_ and _snotty_ and his face twists up in a way that’s ten different kinds of ugly. “ ' _I’m considering it’_. You know what? Just, fuck you hyung,” Junhui’s thumb soothes his arm, his other hand coming up to wipe tears away from his face. Minghao leans into the touch, and Junhui cradles his face. He lets out a few gross sobs, full out crying now, not sure if he hates himself more than he hates Junhui.   
  
“I’m, like, _emotionally constipated_ for trying to hide all this shit from you so you wouldn’t be grossed out because I didn’t know what you wanted from me.”

Junhui makes a face, though Minghao can't be sure if it's for the metaphor or something else. “ _You’re_ selfish,” Junhui turns his face up slightly, to meet his eyes. He looks miserable, but in a really soft way that suits him. It’s worry, all over his face, and it makes Minghao wail even harder. “You’re a liar.” He lets out a cry, his chest heaving. “And you’re sneaky. And bottle shit up, but you think it’s fucking justified?” Junhui’s voice shakes, too. “Fuck you.”   
  
Minghao lets out a choked sound, and he tries to reach up to wipe the tears and snot away, but Junhui leans in for a kiss instead. It’s wet, but it’s also slow and soft and Minghao doesn’t know what to think so he just lets it go, emptying his head and just letting the tears come.   
  
“ _Please,_ just stop crying,” Junhui pleads him in a whisper, his warm brown eyes staring him down just inches away. “It’s gross to kiss you when you’re crying, I feel like an exploiter.” His fingers stroke his cheek.   
  
“Then don’t kiss me.” Junhui smiles, biting his lower lip, apologetic. Minghao wipes tears from his chin into the sleeves of his sweater, sighing. “Or stop making me cry.” Junhui’s touch is careful when his hand slides down to cradle his neck, then down to settle between his shoulder blades, and he pulls Minghao in for a hug.   
  
They have now cuddled once, and Junhui held him for a while last night when he arrived. But Minghao thinks this might be the first ever hug he has received from Junhui. It’s really good. His hands wrap around him, warm and steady, and his chest feels warm too. Minghao lets his face press into the fabric of Junhui’s shirt, and it smells so good he feels like crying again, his breath hitching.   
  
“…When will you be done considering?” Minghao manages, his speech muffled by Junhui’s shoulder. The hand on his back is rubbing it slowly, gingerly.

“Give me a minute,” Junhui says, and just holds him there for a while. He holds him through the ugly crying, his shirt getting wet spots from tears and snot, but Minghao thinks Junhui really deserves getting weeped on.   
  
Junhui steps back and holds Minghao’s face in his hands. He hates for Junhui to look at him while he’s red, puffy, wet-cheeked and has his eyelashes in awkward clumps. But he looks like he doesn’t mind.   
  
“Just to be on the same page, okay?” Minghao nods, sniffles. “You—You’re harboring feelings.” Minghao nods again, holding his breath to stop more tears from dwelling up because he’s so done with this already. He just wants to go home. “Since when?”   
  
Minghao makes a face of reluctance, but Junhui seems like he really needs this. “Since—Just before we started to fool around. Or like.. way before.” Junhui looks away, then nodding, thinking, settling into a silence. “…You?”   
  
Junhui’s eyes come back to meet his, and his face is almost broken apart by the silly smile that forms on his face, wide and careless. It makes Minghao’s stomach feel like it’s infested with butterflies or something more severe, and the tips of his fingers tingle. Tightness in his chest multiplies, and suddenly Junhui’s warm hands feel cool in comparison to his heating cheeks.   
  
A deep breath fills up Minghao’s lungs. “Since when?” He stares, wide eyed, and he needs to hear it. Like Junhui said, just to be on the same page. That’s all he really needs. Clarity.   
  
“I’m… probably when”—Junhui looks at his mouth, gaze then moving to look at everything else, take in everything—edges of his face, tear-trails drying up—“I blew you in the bathroom at work?”   
  
Minghao laughs and it sounds miserable in the way his throat is awkwardly wet and he hasn’t cleared it in ages, but he doesn’t avert his gaze, just letting his eyes and nose scrunch up alongside the smile that forces his lips upwards in a way it hurts his cheeks. Something light bubbles up in him, it’s refreshing.

“You’re so gross.” Minghao takes hold of Junhui’s wrists and brings them down from his face. His thumbs caress the inner of Junhui’s wrists, feeling the pulse, fast and strong. He leaves them to rest back at the elder’s sides. Junhui looks like he wants to protest, hands balling up into fists and then resting again, thumbs digging into the fabric by his hips.  
  
“I do my best.” He smiles, and Minghao smiles too, small but genuine, and it seems to be enough to calm Junhui’s restlessness. It calms Minghao too, his whole body feels light, weightless, like he might float away any second. Minghao slides by the wall so he can move further down the hall in swift steps, hands checking his pockets and seeing if anything is missing. There’s his phone, keys, he reaches for Junhui’s coat that he left by the door yesterday but falters for a second, fingers ghosting over it. Nervousness engulfs him.   
  
Then he pulls it on, and he’s still not filling the shoulders, and the sleeves are a tad long. “Minghao?” Minghao turns to look at him, and Junhui is standing in middle of the hall with his hands in his pockets. There's something close to nervousness in his expression. “I’ll call you."  
  
The promise lingers for a second, making Minghao’s toes curl when he steps into his shoes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, hyung.” Ignoring the way his heart grows twice in size inside his chest, he opens the door and can hear Junhui breathe out a laugh when he closes it behind him.

 


End file.
